


Green Wine and Pizza

by turnyourankle



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To an outsider, dinners with Rachel and Harvey may appear the same, but Mike prefers eating out with Harvey any day of the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Wine and Pizza

**Author's Note:**

> Written for marveyficchallenges #38 As Good As It Gets. In my mind this takes place in a universe where Mike and Rachel never started dating. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd and I'm actually looking for a beta in case anyone is so inclined (what better place to ask than in A/N?) I've got a longer piece that I'm working on that I'd rather have scrutinized by someone else before unleashing it upon the world!

It's not that Mike didn't like going to dinner with Rachel-- he did, absolutely. It was adventurous and eye opening and challenged his taste buds and expectations and sometimes even his stomach. But ultimately it didn't even come close to eating out with Harvey. 

To an outsider, the two situations seemed remarkably similar: Rachel and Harvey both liked to pick their dining destinations. They both had extravagant tastes. They both enjoyed showing off. But that was where the similarities ended.

Rachel liked to order for both of them. Occasionally Mike would get an errant look from other patrons as Rachel recited their order, but he didn't begrudge Rachel the joy of flaunting her expertise. The waitstaff never faltered and he was okay with letting her lead; he was certainly used to it with others. He did mind what she ordered, though. Just in the past month he'd been exposed to duck liver mousse with sherry bacon jam, s'mores foie gras and maple salmon candy. 

Just a couple of days ago they'd gone out and Rachel had ordered lasagna for him, which sounds as rustic and simple as you can get, except this lasagna was filled with rabbit and caribou moss. He choked it down with aplomb, trying not to think too much about the particular components that made up his meal. But thinking is what he did. So he returned home queasy and somehow still hungry, and washed out his mouth with PBR. He didn't even finish the can, just swished the beer around in his mouth and gulped it down warm. 

Harvey though -- sure, he'd take him to some fancy ass places, fancier than Rachel would pick, and Mike is sure that Harvey would scoff if he heard Mike use the word 'fancy' to describe the restaurants rather than upscale, or opulent or whatever else the word of the day could be -- but Harvey would never expect Mike to eat anything outside of his comfort zone. 

There was usually at least a couple of safe bets with a twist on the menus (for people like him, Mike guesses) burgers with bone marrow aioli, or beef cheek tacos. Sure, these meals were as expensive as everything else, but at least these constellations of food resembled something Mike would choose for himself on any given night. That's not to say Harvey didn't mock him for his choices; he did, quite openly. But then he'd let Mike enjoy his meal. And that made dinners with him all the sweeter. 

This night, the night that tipped the dinners out with Harvey even more in his favor, Mike chose a pizza verde with lemon ricotta, parsley and chives. Pizza was pizza, and in Mike's eyes they couldn't fuck it up too badly. Harvey raised his eyebrows at him and turned to the waiter.

"Can you believe him?"

The waiter, consummate professional as he was, flashed a subtle smile at Mike, said, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it, sir, it's a very popular dish."

"Among toddlers, no doubt," Harvey scoffed and handed his menu to the waiter. "What do the pizza eaters usually drink? I assume this vinho verde is lost on a pizza palate."

"You like pizza as much as the next person, Harvey," Mike said because it was true and because it was the closest he could come to poking his tongue out at him in public. 

"There's a place and time for everything," Harvey responded flatly. 

"Negronis compliment the tart lemon of the pizza quite well," the waiter said, as if he'd witnessed nothing. Mike guessed he was tipped quite well.

"Sounds a little too adult." Mike expected Harvey to order it right then, Rachel certainly would've, but of course, that's not him. He tipped his head at Mike. "Well? Will you take the professional recommendation?"

"The wine is fine," Mike said and demonstrated by taking a long sip and licking his lips. It may have taken time for him to grow accustomed to wine, but he quite liked how dry and acidic this was. 

"No need to make a show of it," Harvey said and turned to the waiter. "That's all for now, thank you."

Their food arrived and the pizza was delicious, as expected, but what intrigued Mike more was Harvey's dish. The meal was presented beautifully, but the way Harvey's face looked as he's ate it is really what's grabbed Mike's attention. Rachel would normally always make a show out of her eating, as if each bite was some sort of sexual proxy. It was almost uncomfortable to watch most of the time, because Mike doubted it was sincere. 

But Harvey, Mike had never seen Harvey enjoy his food so visibly. It wasn't the same, not hardly. He's took small bites and Mike could see from the way his jaw moved and tensed that he was really, really savoring it. He was taking his sweet time with each bite. Not for show. Which, okay, now Mike was really curious.

"Is it good?"

Harvey held his wine glass, tipping it this way and that way, and paused before having a sip. "Everything here is excellent."

"Yeah, but yours looks really good."

"I know you're not regretting your choice, because you're eating like an animal." Harvey placed his glass back on the table, refilled it, and topped off Mike's glass. 

Mike rolled his eyes at that, but decided to take a chance, asked, "Can I try it?"

Harvey considered him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I don't share my food."

"Is this how you treat your dates? Because I don't know how your batting average is so high when you're so stingy. Come on, just one forkful--" Mike reached over to Harvey's plate and was blocked as Harvey batted him away with his own fork.

"You're not tainting my meal with those pizza particles."

"You said it yourself, all the food here is excellent."

"That doesn't mean it should be married. They are separate meals for a reason," Harvey responded as he sliced a piece of sea bream, skewered an escargot and swept it through the pool of olive sauce on his plate. Instead of putting it into his mouth, he leaned forward slightly and reached out towards Mike. Mike couldn't help but blink in surprise. He recovered quickly and eagerly moved to take the fork from Harvey but Harvey wouldn't have it, he withdrew, _tsk_ -ing in response. 

"You asked for the date treatment, that is what you get," Harvey chided him. Mike let his hand drop and Harvey pushed the fork towards him. This should have been embarrassing, really, but Mike instinctively opened his mouth and let Harvey feed him. He seemed experienced: didn't stab the roof of his mouth or the back of his throat, and let Mike lick the fork clean before withdrawing it from his mouth. The fork was back on Harvey's plate in no time as he fixed himself bite. 

"Well?"

"I think I need a second try, just to make sure. A little more sauce, please," Mike responded, because two could play this game, and after Harvey finished his portion he prepared another bite for Mike. This time Mike opened his mouth in anticipation, not caring about how it looked. Somehow the second bite was even better than the first. He could tell Harvey was enjoying this, and Mike kind of wanted to put on a show for him, but he refrained, briefly biting his lip and then drinking his wine, to stop himself from saying something stupid.

Harvey wasn't looking at him, but Mike could tell he was pleased from the small smile tugging at his lips and the way the corners of eyes were crinkling. It was the look Harvey had when Mike did something right, and he'd do almost anything to keep it plastered on his face at all times. 

"If this was a date you'd definitely be getting lucky tonight," Mike said, it just slipped out and oh, well, so much for not saying anything stupid. Harvey just laughed at him silently, crinkles deepening and smile widening.

"Is that so?" Harvey said with amusement in his voice. He didn't seem concerned, in fact, he looked intrigued. Besides, it was too late to take it back now, so Mike figured he might as well lean into it. 

"Do you want to try mine?" He had a couple of slices left, and he wouldn't mind reciprocating the gesture. The thought of the visual was appealing.

"You're not feeding me pizza." Harvey said, his voice was stern but his face still open. Oh, the flutters this brought to Mike's chest.

"Why not?"

"It's undignified." He topped off their glasses, the bottle emptying into Mike's glass.

"We should get another bottle." 

Harvey nodded. "That's doable." He tilted his head ever so slightly and tapped the bottle, and Mike could see the waiter responding from the corner of his eye, nodding and quickly getting on the case. 

"And dessert," Mike adds.

"They do have excellent dessert." 

Quickly, before he chickened out Mike continued, "Something to share."

Harvey quirked his mouth, but didn't protest. The waiter came by, presenting the fresh bottle and uncorked it for them. "Anything else, gentlemen?"

"We'll take the dessert menu, please," Harvey said, looking Mike square in the eyes and Mike had never been so excited to be at a fancy restaurant in his life.


End file.
